


Fractioned

by MaryLouLeach



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221b format, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Slash, Tumblr: letswritesherlock, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryLouLeach/pseuds/MaryLouLeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates John and Sherlock have found each other until an accident occurs leaving John without memory. Multi chapters WRITTEN IN 221B FORMAT</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. amnesia

**Author's Note:**

> a response to challenge 15, let's write Sherlock. I promise i have forgotten my other stories. I accepted this challenge to help with the writer's block. it was fun! I combined it all into one story! Amnesia, getting lost, huddled for warmth, kissing in the rain, hurt comfort, and soul mates.

He's looking at me again with those cool gray eyes. He knows me?

I want to tell him something. Maybe I'm relieved to see him?

Anything to help clear out the hurt he carries.

Part of me wants to yell something. I try to grasp onto the vague memories, but they are like wisps of smoke. Nothing tangible, If only I could form words and clear thoughts. **_Who is he?_**

My mouth is dry, he presses a straw there and on reflex I can drink. I think of the desert when the lights shine too brightly in my eyes. He turns them down and growls at the nurse.

This man with the sharp cheekbones, and unruly curls, all so familiar to me. Whoever said men aren't beautiful obviously never met this man.

He's in pain, I know it's my fault. **_How did I get here?_**

He reassures me when I become distressed, the monitors betray me.

"John. Sssh."

My name is John. **_Why do I keep forgetting that? Who is he?_**

This hospital room starts to spin once more and I know the darkness will close in to swallow me up like a sandstorm. A nurse with a syringe enters.

I want to speak up and tell her no but I've forgotten how, if only I could remember. **_Come on brain._**

 


	2. Getting lost, huddled for warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's raining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added two into this one, Getting Lost and huddled for warmth. Kissing in the rain isn't in the same column as the other's but i couldn't pass it up. I hope you will understand lol.

 

It's childish but he refuses to tell John he failed, and that the Doctor had been correct. Sherlock acknowledges it to himself, that should be enough. They are lost, fine. Yes, he should have texted Lestrade before they set off into the maze of abandoned warehouses and shipping crates.

The salt from the sea is mixing with the wind and hatefully cold rain, John despite all this has a grin on his face. He pulls Sherlock to him, without a word, he presses the tall detective hard against the rough brick of the building.

"The one time you forget your damn coat it has to be in nasty weather. No matter. We can make do."

Sherlock can't explain the warmth that is spreading through his soaked clothes, John removes his own jacket to cover them both. "Come on don't be shy, we can huddle under this poor excuse of a roof while you form a plan. Too bad our phones have zero service out here."

Sherlock is glad for the dim lighting his cheeks grow warm and he attempts to think of anything else other than how John's hard thigh feels against his own. "For warmth." John reassures as he wraps his strong arms around the younger man's narrow waist. Sherlock tries to focus, on the case and not the blond.

 


	3. kissing in the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> contains some kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added this for fun, it's extra. No charge.

Sherlock was a genius, it wasn't vanity but a fact. His keen eyes even in the rain and dim lighting had discovered the pattern of marked shipping containers. Like bread crumbs he found them until they came upon the one that held the black market relics. John wooped, holding up his mobile.

"And we've got a signal to boot! Sherlock! You've done it! I'll text Lestrade."

It wasn't enough to find the goods, Sherlock wanted the criminals as well, not for the sake of justice. Though he would never tell John this out loud, but vanity. He wanted to bring in the criminals because no one outsmarted Sherlock Holmes.

"John! I know where they are. There's more markings, it's all discreetly done with prime numbers pointing to the warehouse where their meeting will take place. "

"You're sure? " John didn't wait for an answer instead he sent another quick text, the sun setting just over his shoulder. Sherlock thought it made John appear angelic, his gold hair lit up and shimmering. Then blue eyes met gray, and the remembered heat from earlier had the consulting detective turning away.

Strong hands cupped his face forcing him to look back. The rain forgotten as blue eyes met gray and their lips met.

In the rain they shared their first kiss, warm heated, and beautiful.


	4. hurt/comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> john's hurt

It was John to step back from their kiss first, his blue eyes bright and hopeful.

"You were saying you knew where the smugglers are meeting?"

Sherlock nodded, swallowing hard and resisting the urge to trace his fingers over his swollen mouth. He could still taste John, like warm tea and honey.

"Well genius lead the way."

"Right, as I was saying-" Sherlock pushed the scrambled chaos into a locked room of his mind palace. He would return to it later right now he needed to focus.

He wanted to finish quickly so he could perhaps test his newly formed theories about John's actions.

So caught up in the chase Sherlock missed the trip wire, however John was quick to push him out of the deafening blast, the rain stopped, but Sherlock still was shivering due to his damp clothes.

There was a heavy weight on him, and a warm stickiness soaking through his thin button up.

"John!" Sherlock pushed his friend his love from him gently. Coughing as the smoke cleared. There was no response, "John, I've got you." John was hurt, the back of his head bleeding, something had struck John in the explosion. Sherlock cradled Johns head in his lap fumbling for his nearly dead mobile. John had shielded Sherlock and now, now John was bleeding.


	5. soul mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's thoughts

Mycroft wasn't one to believe in children's stories, even as a child he doubted the existence of non tangible beings. Santa Claus and the tooth fairy were pathetic representations of evolving primitive thought and urban legend. He simply asked his mother to give him money upfront instead of insisting on partaking in such hedonistic rituals.

The belief in Soul Mates was a very popular and ancient religion.

He grew up as did most his age hearing stories of soul mates, the theory was disgustingly sentimental. Logic was god to the elder Holmes, therefore love, or the existence of one's destined mate was laughable.

Until he witnessed a meeting between John Watson and Sherlock. Watching the two on CCTV, Mycroft had a glimpse of what it must feel to be a god observing the first meeting between his newly created beings. It was as if something clicked, some broken connection finally finding it's true conductor.

The explosion on the docs left John Watson with amnesia and it was as if all the light in Sherlock's eyes had been stolen. It was a terrifying thing to see the connection broken once more.

For this reason Mycroft called in his own specialists in to treat the injured doctor. Because Mycroft Holmes knew, if Doctor John Watson died, his brother would not be far behind.


	6. Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been asked to continue this story. lol i guess everyone doesn't want this to be left without knowing what will happen.

John wakes up, he knows his name, “ ** _I am John._** ”

The Doctors that come in assure him he’s doing better, they ask him the same questions, he remembers the date only because someone told him what day it was yesterday and the day before. He isn’t stupid he can count, a nurse enters with drugs, always wanting to ease his stress.

He waits for the dark haired man to come back, **_Sherlock_** , his name is **_Sherlock._** John remembers  refusing to ever forget.

John knows it hurts the stranger when he forgets that name.  

The dark haired man enters, Sherlock. John reminds himself, this is Sherlock. And Sherlock has brought in hot tea, not the hospital kind either but some he made at home. The thermos he carries John thinks is familiar, ** _he knows it is_**.

“John, I’m sorry I’m so late. However I did bring you some tea from home.”

“Late?” The words are dry like sand.

John reaches out to take the warm green thermos, a flash of the desert sun and he turns to see a man in army fatigues looking at him the two laying behind heavy sandbags belly down flat on the hot earth.

Then the brightness of the unforgiving sun disappears and he’s sitting in the hospital bed the dark haired Sherlock is speaking.

**  
_“I had business.”_ **


	7. tea

John frowns, his head aches and the memory was almost there almost tangible.  Then he looks at the hand that gave him the thermos. Bruised knuckles, he instinctively knows the younger man has been in a fight. Eyes scan that beautifully sharp face, there is more evidence there nothing broken just a few bruises and scrapes.

“Forgive my tardiness John. I had business. The case we were on-”

“The case?” John hesitates holding the thermos in his hands like one would a fragile object, his blue eyes stare down at the object.

“Yes, before the accident we were on a case. It doesn’t matter. The ones who-” Sherlock felt his voice break with emotion. He coughed in an attempt to cover it up, “It’s over John. The culprits have been taken into custody.”

John nods and Sherlock takes the thermos from him and unscrews the cap, pouring the wonderfully hot liquid into the lid.

“Here, John it’s your favorite.”

“It is?” John accepts the offered drink and sips slowly. “It is.” He replies more assuredly, closing his eyes in reflection.

  
The warmth spreads through his sore body, and the aroma reminds him of home. John suddenly has a flash of an olive green door, and a somewhat crooked gold knocker. “I want to go home.” He sighs, eyes open “221B Baker?”


	8. MEMORY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They thought the culprits were caught but were they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS FOR gaarasgirl389, she said to continue well here go. Lets get John's memory back!!! Find me on Marylousfanfictionspace tumblr we are going to be doing some awesome stuff this spring. Some hand written postcards from the writer, as well as some merch sent your way from a new etsy start up called Neko Strawberry Station. I'm looking forward to more reviews and comments thank you.

John watched the streets as they flew by, the business of people always interested him. Didn’t it? Everyone in their lives so busy and determined to move quickly from point A to point B. 

 

He was currently standing in front of point B, however the door he expected it to be olive green, it’s black with knocker set askew. 

 

This amused him but he didn’t know exactly why, he tried to remember. Brother. Sherlock had a brother!  The tall long legged siren moved to open the door his smile of determination firmly in place.

 

“NO!” John was in the desert, he was looking down at tripwire, then at a hand, a soldiers gloved hand on a doors nobb, the key in ready to turn. “No!” Instinct, a desert scene played before his eyes, like sand washing over his body, he pulled the young man back off the stoop, John’s shorter stockier body covering the longer leaner one. 

 

The sound of an explosion echoed in his mind and ears, his own heart pounded like heavy falling debris into the back of his friend. This man was something more, there was a connection. They had gone to war together, right?

 

Perhaps, but seeing this man in uniform would not only be heart stopping but unrealistic. He, Sherlock wasn’t one to take orders. Boom!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your wonderful reviews. I have a few requests and I'm working on those as well. I just got back from a wonderful beach vacation where some douche bag jacked our suitcase...however we made out ok. I hope that individual is happy with my dr. who tshirts and star trek shirts...bastard. sad. anyway, No worries great news! I got a better job at another lab where it pays more and NO WEEKENDS OR NIGHTS! yeaaaay. hope all is well with you folks!


End file.
